Come Away
by Penny Dreadful
Summary: A Story In Several Chapters In Which We See A League Of Extraordinary Pirates Formed


"...and there was the Pearl, and my crew, waitin' for me just off the coast. She was mine again, returned to her rightful Captain after adventure and death, curses and true love." Jack pondered the warped, pewter mug in front of him. "And rum. Can't forget the rum."  
  
A volley of laughing cheers burst from the table at which Sparrow sat with a full choice of the pub's patrons. Some were standing as the benches were crammed full already around the dark-haired Captain. Jack worked a piquant smile up from the corner of his mouth, spat his eyebrows up, down, and tipped the mug against his lips.  
  
One of the heftier, dirtier patrons leaned in to guffaw saltily, "That be a fine, fine tale, Jack Sparrow. Sure an' its got the beat of any told in Tortuga, and jus' as sure the Black Pearl is the finest ship for all its mystery. Finest ship, indeed." And the crowd gathered offered its assent with murmurs and nods.  
  
"Ah, well," drawled Jack, "far be it from me to deny –"  
  
"A cursed ship with black sails. Is that the best you could do?"  
  
The new voice came from the other side of the pub and called out in startlingly rich, feminine tones. The congregation clustered about Jack's table all hushed, rustled and turned to see who dared impugn Captain Jack Sparrow's ship and story. Jack, himself, was the last to shift and sweep his gaze back over his shoulder.  
  
She was sleek, cut fine with a jacket of claret red velvet whose sleeves seemed slightly oversized, but the waist of which must have been re- tailored to fit the curves of a woman. The jacket was inlaid with gold braid trim, the buttons polished gold, and the jacket skirt split on either side of easier movement. Her breeches were cleaving to her legs and made of doeskin, her hands sheathed in black, suede gloves. There was a ruffle of white at her chest and trim boots to shod her slender feet and calves. All this was grand enough, but it was her hat that really set her apart – a hat surprisingly like the one Sparrow had promised Barbosa. It was wide, red, with two dashing feathers leaping back from the side sash, and it was cocked jauntily over one of the woman's eyes. She had a saber nestled against her hip, held there with a low-slung belt. Her eyes were a clear grey, her hair like coffee with cream poured into it, knotted at the nape of her neck. Her expression was impassive.  
  
Jack regarded her for a long moment, wit seeming to evade him. Finally, he grasped at what thoughts flitted close enough to reason and offered a smirk. "No one told me a critic of sea tales was havin' her presence here tonight, my girl, else I'd have added embellishments."  
  
The woman started forward, still placid in face. Impossibly lovely face it was. "Ah, so we received the bone-dry version, did we?" Her accent was a clipped, precise English. "And I was certain this was all a story of rum- induced fancy."  
  
"Ye'll na' be callin' Cap'n jack Sparrow a liar!" roared Gibbs, rising. The woman remained nonplussed. "Ev'ry word's God's own truth; ask anyone of th' Pearl's crew!"  
  
The young woman seemed to consider a moment. "So, then, you really did fight with a crew of cursed, undying skeletons?" she mused inquiringly.  
  
Jack's little, spiced smirk came again. "And won agains' them, too," he reminded coyly.  
  
"In that case, I have a proposition for you," said the woman, doffing her glorious hat.  
  
The crew and hangers-on all eyed her with cutting suspicion. Jack, however, seemed contentedly curious. "Get us on an even keel by an introduction on your part, an' I'll graciously hear out the proposition," were his terms.  
  
The woman inclined her head, slightly, in acquiescence. "Captain Jane Darling, of the Jolly Roger," she answered. This brought forth a slight wave of laughter. Jack knew why – a female captain, and one polished and richly attired as this could not possibly captain a pirate vessel. Sparrow was magnanimous enough not to laugh with the rest.  
  
"And you're there, telling me I've a like to embellish a tale," chastised Sparrow. Jane's eyes clouded slightly with something Jack recognized as slightly dangerous. "Where's your crew, Captain Darling?" he inquired archly.  
  
"The Neverland," she replied, which set the whole lot off laughing again. Jack, again, did not laugh, but this time it was because he recognized something in Jane's expression. Something in her posture, her carriage, her tone. It reminded him of when he would tell people of the Black Pearl and its curse and they would laugh. Yes, he knew that look in her eyes. Without preamble or word, he rose and gestured to the door of the pub in invitation. Jane inclined her head once more and stepped around a table, in front of Jack, and preceded him to the exit. The rest of the crew stared on in slight disbelief, then let their Captain go, assuming he had intentions of wooing the deluded, yet lovely, woman.  
  
Outside, on the streets of Tortuga, people stared at Jane. With Sparrow as her escort, however, there was no attempt at harassment. Sparrow and Darling walked – she sedately and regally, he with that flowing sort of nervous habit that always clung to him. "Neverland's a port?" he finally asked.  
  
"An island," she told him, gazing straight ahead.  
  
"I'll admit to not having heard o' it before," Jack drawled. "But there are plenty of unmarked islands claimed by pirates. Off the Spanish Main, is it?"  
  
"No," said Jane, and her voice was slightly distant. "No, it's quite farther away. Nevertheless, I must return there immediately. It is imperative. I've stayed away far too long as it is."  
  
"And, for whatever reason, you're wanting to tangle me in this," prompted Jack. Jane nodded. "Why the gloomy sobriety of the moment, then, Captain? I haven't turned you down as of yet."  
  
"You may, but you're the only man who both has a ship and might believe what I have to tell you," she gave in reply, looking over at him finally. "Because there are few pirates who have been touched by the otherworldly. I need someone who can believe."  
  
Jack was about to make a flippant remark about a female captain being 'otherworldly' enough, but that look on her face barred him from it. "What's th' tale, then, love?" he cajoled.  
  
"Like yours, it begins with a terrible curse," she said, looking away. They eased their path into a less rowdy area of streets (no easy feat to find). "But a curse of running toward death, not away from it. It is the curse with which all are afflicted. The curse of growing up."  
  
Jack said nothing, but there was an uneasy feeling stirring inside of him. Age-old memories that wanted to swell, crest and break as waves upon some faraway shore. "I'm afraid I'll be a disappointment t'you, then," he chuckled, but there was no real humor in his voice. "Pitiful thing about Jack Sparrow is that he never really grew up."  
  
"That, I think, is going to be the saving grace," Jane told him. "And it's what makes me now sure beyond doubt that you are the only one who can help me." Her gaze leveled on his face. "I need the Black Pearl and you to take me back to the Neverland and my ship. Before it's too late. Before...before he returns."  
  
"I'm biting – before who returns?"  
  
"Pan."  
  
Jack cocked a brow. "You're under threat by a pipe-playing, Greek demi- god?" His incredulity was, naturally, not unfounded.  
  
Jane's turn to smile crookedly. "No. Peter Pan. A time ago, he dominated the Neverland. Things changed, but now I fear he will try again to take hold of the island."  
  
"So, this is a matter if piratical politics, is it?" clinched Jack.  
  
Another terse shake of Jane's head. "No. This is free of political fetters. Free of all real reason and linear expectation. The Neverland isn't a scrap of soil in the sea being fought over. It's much more than that." She paused to get her bearings, and Jack stopped with her and watched as she looked about.  
  
"Might we discuss compensation for this magical journey?" queried Jack, his eyes roving about with her own.  
  
"Treasure," she replied carelessly. "As much as you'd like. It could fill your ship and spill over, I'm sure."  
  
"Adequate," said Sparrow, just as casually. "And the risk involved for ship and crew?"  
  
"I sha'n't lie – a goodly amount. But if you listen to me and heed what I tell you, we should come clear of it all."  
  
As Jack contemplated this, Jane began to walk again. It took Sparrow a moment to realize she'd started off, and he hurried to catch her up. She spoke again without seeming to recognize that he'd ever left her side. "We would have to sail at dawn. Can your crew be ready?"  
  
"Never worry about timing with the Pearl's crew, love," assured Jack. "But I must ask for a...special consideration."  
  
"Mm. What is that?" murmured Darling, seeking out her inn with sweeps of her gaze.  
  
"I've first choice of any box of treasure we happen upon and you give your word as a Captain and lady that it's mine if I declare I'm wanting it. Savvy?" There was a tincture of something in Jack's voice of which, had she not been preoccupied, Jane would've been immediately suspicious.  
  
"Of course. I've no use for treasure. Have claim of it all, for what I care," she promised artlessly. "My word as a Captain and lady."  
  
"The inn's there," aided Jack with a point in the correct direction. "And I shall see you 'pon the morrow, Captain Jane Darling."  
  
"Good night, Captain Sparrow," was her crisp, if not unkind reply. "Let us hope you are as fortunate against the eternally youthful as you are against the undead."  
  
"My mother swore I put fifty years on her life before I was three," eased Jack as she tipped his hat and stepped back. "That should instill confidence."  
  
With a tart smile, he pivoted and strolled away. 


End file.
